


when i come around

by savedby



Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: Getting Together, M/M, mentioned Nico/Nolan, old men bad at feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-04
Updated: 2019-01-04
Packaged: 2019-10-04 08:19:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,193
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17301143
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/savedby/pseuds/savedby
Summary: “Nolan is in a happy and committed, but long-distance, relationship,” Claude said.Wayne hadn’t known that, but it wasn’t in itself unusual. “Okay?”“With Nico Hischier,” Claude finished, staring at Wayne as if to gauge his reaction.or,it's rough when your younger teammate is better at relationships than you are





	when i come around

**Author's Note:**

> I started writing this last season, so some information may be a little out of date.

 

“Um, hey, Simmer?” Nolan said. “Have you seen Clo anywhere?”

 

Without even thinking about it, Wayne said, “Have you checked the bikes?”

 

“Why would he be biking right now, practice is done?” Nolan asked, looking confused. Wayne shook his head. It usually took the rookies some time to grasp all of Claude’s various eccentricities.

 

“He says he likes the atmosphere in there after everyone’s gone. Helps him think. I don’t know how much thinking he actually does, I’ve personally never seen him do any.”

 

It was a weak chirp, but it made Nolan crack a smile so Wayne continued. “Why do you need him?”

 

Nolan seemed to hesitate. “It’s nothing,” he said and Wayne stayed silent, waiting, “I just wanted to talk to him about something personal.”

 

Wayne frowned. “He hasn’t done something dumb, has he? If he did, it probably wasn’t on purpose, he’s just a dumbass. Do you want me to talk to him?”

 

Nolan shook his head, wide-eyed. “No!” he said, “It’s okay. He’s been really good at helping me, actually.”

 

Wayne smiled, a spike of warmth blooming in his chest. “That’s good. He’s a dumbass but he’s also a good captain sometimes. I’m glad you went to him.”

 

Nolan nodded, flushed red.

 

“And if there’s anything you need, you can also always come to me,” Wayne said, carefully. “You know Clo is all talk and I’m the one that actually does the ass-kicking in the end.”

 

That startled a laugh out of Nolan. “Noted,” he said. “Thanks, Simmer.”

  
  


*

  
  


They were in the middle of an away trip, and the knock on Wayne’s hotel room door evening wasn’t that surprising. Some of the guys just didn’t want to be alone and Wayne filled that void with an open-door policy and bunch of favorite movies and TV shows or just a nonjudgmental ear for any sort of problems coming to light as the season progressed.

 

So the knock didn’t surprise him, but Claude being behind the door did. It’s been a while since Claude seemed to need a confidante, and Wayne accepted the demotion as gracefully as he could.

 

“Clo? What’s up?” 

 

“What, I can’t come over to see my favorite winger every once in a while?” Claude’s tone sounded jovial and teasing but there was something just the slightest bit off in his delivery.

 

“I’m not your favorite winger,” Wayne said flatly but stepped aside.

 

“You’re right, Travis is busy. So I went for second best,” Claude said, beaming, then punched Wayne in the shoulder. “That’s you, buddy!”

 

“I’m flattered,” Wayne said, fighting and failing to hide a smile.

 

Claude sprawled across Wayne’s bed with a loud sigh. There was a moment when the sight of him lying on Wayne’s bed in the messed up sheets sent warmth pooling to the pit of his stomach. Wayne squashed the feeling immediately, but it still left him just the slightest bit off balance.

 

He sat next to Claude on the bed, scooting to the headboard and making himself comfortable. 

 

“So?” Wayne said, poking Claude in the thigh with his toes. Claude let it happen, then reached out to grab at Wayne’s ankle, pinning his foot down. 

 

“Nolan asked me for advice with something,” Claude finally broke, “and I don’t know if I said the right thing.”

 

“Did you make him cry?” Wayne asked, mostly joking. Claude grimaced.

 

“Yeah,” he said, and he must have seen Wayne looking horrified because he added, “I think they were happy tears though.”

 

Wayne was silent for a moment, processing. Nolan wanting to speak with the captain, the revelation that he’d cried, that Claude also probably cried because other people crying always set him off. 

 

A picture was starting to form in his mind.

 

“What happened?” Wayne said softly. Claude sighed, frowning. Wayne reached out instinctively to smooth the wrinkle between his eyes, and Claude relaxed minutely.

 

“Nolan is in a happy and committed, but long-distance, relationship,” Claude said.

 

Wayne hadn’t known that, but it wasn’t in itself unusual. “Okay?”

 

“With Nico Hischier,” Claude finished, staring at Wayne as if to gauge his reaction. 

 

Wayne whistled under his breath. “Wow,” he said. “I kind of see that. Those first few weeks of camp Nico was all he could talk about. I kind of assumed they might be more than friends, but then it cut off completely. I figured they had broken it off.”

 

Claude grimaced. “Someone told them they should tone it down apparently,” he said. He sent Wayne an admiring look. “I can't believe you guessed.”

 

“I’m more emotionally perceptive than you are,” Wayne said, shrugging. Granted, this wasn’t exactly hard, because on a given day Claude was about as observant as a rock. “Did he tell you who it was that told him that?”

 

Claude nodded. “I talked to them already. From what he said, the exchange wasn't very pleasant and I don’t want anyone in the organization expressing that kind of bullshit mentality.”

 

“Good,” Wayne said, unflexing his fist, “otherwise I would have wanted to have a little talk with them myself.”

 

“I knew you would,” and there was something in Claude’s tone, the pride maybe, that made Wayne look away, feeling warm.

 

“Was that what Nolan wanted to talk to you about?”

 

“Part of it, yeah,” Claude said slowly, “mostly he wanted to know how the team and the organization would feel if he and Nico came out.”

 

Wayne stared at him. “What?” he said.

 

“They’re considering coming out, or at least just not trying to hide it anymore,” Claude said, turning to look at Wayne.

 

“What did you say to him?” Wayne asked, trying to process.

 

“That I’d support him no matter what and that I’ll make sure the team is behind him too. What else could I have said?” Claude looked at him imploring and Wayne let out a sigh of relief he didn’t even realize he’d been holding.

 

“You did good,” Wayne said and watched as Claude’s whole posture changed in front of his eyes. He relaxed, tension dropping from his face and he even smiled.

 

“Yeah?”

 

“Yeah. I bet it meant a lot to him to have that reassurance. I know it would have meant a lot to me.”

 

Claude looked at him a little strangely. “So you think it’s a good idea? Them coming out?”

 

“Has Nico talked to the Devils yet?” Wayne said, temporarily dodging the question. “Greene’s a good guy.”

 

“Yeah.”

 

“I think Rico and Hallsy were together for a big chunk of Juniors, so he definitely has them on his side too,” Wayne added.

 

“They what?” Claude spluttered. “How do you know all of this?”

 

Wayne shrugged and grinned weakly. “Just because nobody in the media knew, it doesn’t mean we didn’t know about each other,” he said. “And coming out when I was younger was unfathomable. Things have changed since then.”

 

Claude sat up to look at him. “Wait. You?” 

 

Wayne blinked at him. “Yeah?” he said. Claude still looked blank. “I’m gay, Clo.”

 

“...oh,” Claude said. The silence stretched on.

 

“I thought you knew,” Wayne said awkwardly. 

 

“Uh, you never said.”

 

Wayne shrugged. “I didn’t really feel like it was needed.”

 

“No, no, of course not,” Claude sat up to look at him earnestly. “I’d never want to make you feel like you should say anything unless you’re ready.”

 

“It’s not because I didn’t trust you,” Wayne started, horrified to find himself a little teary. “It’s just…”

 

He trailed off, as Claude was already violently nodding. “It’s okay, dude. You don’t need to explain.”

 

Wayne tried a smile and nodded, choked up.

 

“I love you, Simmer. You know that, right?” Claude said and his earnest stare made Wayne look away.

 

“Yeah,” he said, quietly, “I know. Thanks, Clo.”

 

Claude reached out to awkwardly pat his hand and that’s about the number of feelings Wayne could handle for the evening.

 

“Do you want to watch a movie or something?” Wayne said, trying to regain some ground. Claude shot to his feet like a cannon.

 

“No!” he said, seemed to realize that his volume was too high and put his hand over his mouth. “I mean, I’m really tired so I’ll just go to bed.”

 

“Okay,” Wayne said slowly, as Claude backed up towards the door. “Are you going to be weird about this now?”

 

“Of course not,” Claude said, but he looked like he was being weird about it. “See you tomorrow morning!”

 

“Right,” Wayne said, as the door shut behind him. “Sure.”

 

He slept badly that night.

  
  


*

  
  


Claude made it weird. 

 

It wasn’t as if he was avoiding Wayne. They were on an away trip and you couldn’t really escape your teammates on an away trip. But there were these little things that Claude would do that were out of the ordinary that proved that he was rattled.

 

He moved his knee away when Wayne sat next to him at breakfast or video review, where he would usually sprawl right into his space. He hesitated out of pre-game hugs. He wouldn’t show up for movie night in Wayne’s room.

 

There was always a chance that Claude really was as tired as he kept saying he was. He was getting up there in age, or maybe he got the mono that had wreaked havoc among the younger players a couple of seasons ago.

 

(This lead Wayne to wondering if Claude had been kissing anyone, which turned into him just thinking about kissing Claude, which meant that he had to violently force himself to get his thoughts back on track.)

 

Claude wasn’t homophobic - Wayne knew he wasn’t or he wouldn’t have let himself say anything so casually. It was more likely that he was just being a dumbass. Claude had this tendency of brooding over behavior he didn’t understand and he had such a poor grasp on his feelings that it made the whole situation worse.

 

Wayne gave him a week. And then he allowed himself to start missing him.

  
  


*

  
  


The upcoming game against New Jersey gave Wayne the opportunity to shake Claude out of his funk. 

 

After all, as the senior members of the team they had certain duties to uphold.

 

Wayne knocked on Claude’s door at 8 am on an off day. When nothing moved after a few minutes, he put his whole weight on the doorbell and waited. The sound of barking made his face split into a grin.

 

A moment later, Claude opened the door, disheveled and without a shirt. “What the fuck, Simmer?” he yelled, vowels slurring together like they did when he was drunk or tired.

 

The dogs squeezed past him to hop around Wayne’s legs happily and, overcome with fondness, he dropped down to the concrete floor and let them jump all over him.

 

“I missed you,” he told them as they pressed excited doggy kisses to his face. Charlie jumped up on his chest and Wayne found himself laughing out loud, for the first time in what felt like weeks. 

 

He looked up at Claude and found him slumped against the doorway. He was pale and had dark circles under his eyes. His expression seemed defeated.

 

“You can come in,” he said quietly as Wayne heaved up to his feet.

 

Losing some of his courage and overcome with a sudden desire to be anywhere else, Wayne asked, “Have the dogs been outside yet? I could take them for a walk.”

 

“I already let them out in the yard,” and then there were no excuses anymore. Wayne scooped up the two dogs and stepped past Claude into the foyer.

 

After a moment, Claude’s footsteps sounded behind him, bare on the tiled floor. A door slammed. The bathroom. 

 

The dog snuffled around him as he slipped off his boots, searching the rack for slippers. Normally, he’d put on the replica of the plush Gritty feet because that made Claude laugh but it weirdly didn’t feel appropriate to do that. He put on an ordinary pair instead.

 

Was Claude even the type to notice something like that? Wayne couldn’t decide and he hated that he couldn’t.

 

He went through the kitchen on autopilot. He turned on the coffee machine because Claude would need caffeine for the upcoming conversation. He filled the dog bowl with water because it was empty. He caught himself opening the dishwasher to put the dishes away and stopped, horrified.

 

He couldn’t just undo what he did. He wouldn’t do that to the dogs and it wasn’t good for the machine to stop the coffee maker mid-cycle. 

 

So he left it, went to sit at the counter instead. The dogs brought him a ball and he threw it for them carefully across the kitchen, smiling at the click of their claws as they ran.

 

“They’ll scratch the tile if you keep doing that,” Claude’s voice cut through the air.

 

Wayne looked up at him, swallowing. Claude had put on a shirt and he looked a bit more put together. He looked, Wayne realized with a start, really good. He looked away.

 

“Sorry,” he said. Claude let out a loud sigh.

 

There was a moment of awkward silence.

 

“Did you need something?” Claude asked finally.

 

One of the dogs yipped and put his paws on Wayne’s knee. He nodded at it firmly.

 

“We need to talk,” Wayne said, “about New Jersey.”

 

“Oh, thank fuck,” Claude let out his breath in a gasp, “for a moment there, I thought you wanted to talk about…”

 

He trailed off and Wayne eyed him suspiciously. “About what?” he asked.

 

“Uh,” Claude coughed, “it’s nothing. What about New Jersey?”

 

“Oh, right,” Wayne drew himself up. “As you know, our rookie’s boyfriend is on their roster. So it is our sacred duty as captain and alternate, to strike the fear of god or at least, of us, into him. So if he ever tries to hurt Nolan…”

 

Wayne paused meaningfully. Claude blinked at him. His right hand came up and he pinched the skin of his forearm so hard that Wayne saw him wince.

 

“Not a dream,” Claude said to himself.

 

“I’m serious!” Wayne said.

 

Claude started laughing. Wayne watched as he threw his head back, baring his throat, chuckles shaking his frame, and he made himself look away.

 

“Of course that’s what you wanted to talk about,” Claude managed to say, “fuck, Simmer, never change.”

 

Wayne rolled his eyes at him but allowed himself a small smile. The tension between them seemed to disappear as if it were never there, to begin with.

 

“So here’s what I thought we’d do…” 

  
  


*

  
  


Hischier shared an apartment with Hallsy, which made putting the plan into motion a little bit tricky. Luckily, Hallsy was willing to be bribed. With Nolan’s room number. Because apparently, he’d been thinking of doing the same thing.

 

“It’s a good sign,” Claude said, “that his teammates are willing to look out for his emotional well being. Means he’s a good guy.”

 

“Well, of course, he is,” Wayne sniffed, “our Nolan has excellent taste in men.”

 

Claude looked up at him curiously. “Hischier? You think he’s good-looking?”

 

“Sure,” Wayne said, absentmindedly from where he was rummaging in his duffle bag.

 

“Oh,” Claude said, and there was a weird note in his voice. Wayne looked up and immediately frowned.

 

“G, no!” he said. “He’s way too young for me, for starters. You think I’d go for someone that young?”

 

“Well, I don’t know!” Claude said defensively. “Maybe you do? I don’t know anything about your taste in men. I didn’t even know you dated!”

 

“I don’t,” Wayne said, shrugging, “it’s too complicated. I get by with anonymous Grindr hookups just fine, thanks.”

 

“Oh,” Claude frowned, “that’s sad. Don’t you ever want something more permanent?”

 

“It is what it is,” Wayne said, slinging the bag over his shoulder and purposefully changing the subject. “Are you ready to go?”

 

“Yeah.”

  
  


*

  
  


They took an Uber, squashed uncomfortably in the back of a cherry red Toyota as their driver played Ariana Grande’s new album over the speakers. Wayne caught Claude singing along under his breath and resisted the urge to facepalm.

 

Hallsy was waiting outside for them after a text from Claude. Wayne took a moment to stare at his lips. They seemed to grow bigger as the years went by. Maybe it was botox? 

 

Claude hissed at him, frowning, and Wayne unbuckled his seatbelt.

 

“He knows you’re coming,” Hallsy told them, without preamble, “and if I find one hair out of place, I’ll find a way to make you sorry.”

 

Wayne hoped that Hallsy was planning to sic one of his goons after them because he’d seen him fight and it wasn’t really that impressive.

 

“Understood,” Claude said, nodding, and Hallsy stalked away. A tall shadow peeled away from the doorway after him, holding the door open so Wayne and Claude could pass through.

 

“Don’t worry, I’ll keep him in check,” Jimmy Hayes said, winking at them and following Hallsy down the narrow path to the car.

 

“Huh,” Wayne said quietly. He wondered how Henrique felt about his former and current boyfriends hanging out together in New Jersey while he was in Anaheim. 

  
  


*

  
  


The front door opened before Claude could knock properly and Hischier faced both of them with a disarming smile.

 

“Hi!” he said, “come on in. Nolan told me to expect you.”

 

He did not sound intimidated at being called on by two members of his boyfriend's team. In fact, he seemed positively chipper.

 

They were led to a sparsely decorated living room where Hischier had laid out a tablecloth over the coffee table and had put out some snacks. Well, the tablecloth was obviously a repurposed bedspread and the snacks were just a bowl of small wrapped chocolates and some Doritos but it was still impressive.

 

“Do you want something to drink? Water? I can make coffee,” Hischier offered, the image of an excellent host. Wayne frowned at him. He didn't seem adequately terrified and that wouldn't do.

 

“No-” he started to say, sure that his firm refusal would shake Hischier's facade, but Claude cut him off.

 

“A glass of water would be great,” he said. Now that Wayne looked at him, he noticed that he seemed unusually sweaty and red-faced, visibly nervous.

 

Wayne jabbed his elbow into his stomach while Hischier's back was to them. “Get your head in the game,” he hissed at him as Claude groaned.

 

He may have put a little too much force behind the jab, having forgotten that Claude wasn't wearing any padding.

 

Before Claude could reply, Hischier returned with a glass of water and Wayne returned to his glaring.

 

Claude gulped down the glass of water, almost choked, then managed to regain his equilibrium when Wayne slapped him hard on the back. Still, it became apparent that he had no intention of breaking the silence so Wayne squared his shoulders and took over.

 

“I'm sure you know why we came to see you today-” Wayne started and, again, Claude cut him off.

 

“Our Nolan is a very good boy,” he said in a high, nervous voice. “He's very sensitive.”

 

This wasn't anything like the script they'd agreed on.

 

“He's the greatest,” Hischier agreed with a fond smile.

 

“He loves you very much,” Claude continued. “And we just wanted you to know that we in the Flyers organization, both the players and coaching staff, support you fully.”

 

Which was all well and true, but not the point.

 

“If you hurt his feelings, we're going to fuck you up,” Wayne cut in calmly. He was gratified to see Hischier's smile lose some of its shine.

 

“If I do that, I'll deserve it,” Hischier said, looking at them meaningfully. “I love him very much.”

 

It was time for Wayne to pull out the big guns.

 

“Also, when you're in Philly, you'll have him home by 11 pm, the latest, because he has to get a good night's sleep. No hanky panky on game days, and always use a condom when you're doing it otherwise. Use a lot of lube and go slow, I don't want to see Nolan having to explain any mysterious injuries lower body injuries to the medical staff. Are we clear?” Wayne listed off, glaring.

 

“Yes, sir,” Hischier squeaked out, face a satisfactory shade of red. Wayne leaned back into the sofa, tentatively pleased.

 

“It's good that you already found each other and were able to be honest,” Claude started, with what Wayne recognized as his most earnest expression. “You won’t be confronted with the idea a decade later and realizing the love you have for your best friend might not only be for a friend.”

 

What.

 

“If I had just half of your courage,” Claude continued, still staring at Hischier, “I would have been a happier man. Or at least I wouldn’t have spent the time wondering about could have been. You two are very brave, and I want to tell you again, that you’ll have our full support. Also, if you hurt him, I’ll kill you.”

 

Silence dropped heavy in the room. Claude was looking at the wall behind Hischier’s head and Wayne was looking at Claude, and Hischier’s gaze darted between them like he was watching a tennis match.

 

“G, what the fuck?” Wayne managed. Claude swung around to look at him, his eyes very wide and very blue.

 

“I feel like you two have a lot to say to each other,” Hischier said suddenly, backing away towards the door. “Why don’t you talk about it here? Hallsy won’t be back for a while and I’ll go check on Nolan. You can just close the door on your way out, it locks automatically.”

 

And then he was gone, leaving them with the silence and some soggy chips.

 

Wayne shifted on the sofa, feeling unbelievably awkward. Claude continued staring at the wall just off the side of Wayne’s head. He visibly swallowed, opened his mouth, darted a quick glance at Wayne’s face and closed his mouth again.

 

They sat in silence some more.

 

“I guess we should go back to the car,” Wayne said because he literally could not imagine anything he wanted more than getting back to his hotel room for his afternoon nap and away from this oppressive situation. 

 

“Fuck,” Claude suddenly said, sounding furious, and Wayne’s eyes snapped back to him. “That was so embarrassing, I’m sorry.”

 

“Dude,” Wayne said slowly, “you literally embarrass me every single second of every single day I’m seen outside with you, and yet I still take you places. I’ve accepted it. Now, can you please explain to me what that speech was about so I at least know what I’m embarrassed about?”

 

Claude took a deep breath, and let out a sound that was somewhere between a laugh and a scream. “I think I have feelings for you. Not friend feelings.”

 

“Dude,” Wayne said because his brain point blank refused to acknowledge his surroundings properly.

 

“Yeah,” Claude said, smiling slightly. He looked miserable. “I’m sorry. I’ve really messed this up.”

 

“Bro,” Wayne said, trying desperately to convey the force of the emotional maelstrom that was ripping full force through his body.

 

“I know it’ll make things weird, but if you give me a few weeks I can probably get over it-” the rest of what Claude was trying to say was cut off by Wayne pressing him against Taylor Hall’s wall and kissing the stupidity right out of his mouth.

  
  


*

  
  


“What are you still doing here?” Hallsy asked, suspiciously glowering at Wayne and Claude where they were still very awkwardly standing in his living room. 

 

“Uh,” Claude said, eyes darting to Wayne for help. He was too busy trying to surreptitiously rebutton his shirt to offer any.

 

Hallsy’s expression turned rapidly from suspicion to horror. “Wait, where is Nico? Did you do something to him?” He ran over to the window to look outside. “Oh, god, did you bury him in the backyard?”

 

Over his shoulder, Hayes had obviously noticed their disheveled appearance and was putting the clues together, doubling over in silent laughter.

 

“We didn’t kill Nico!” Claude said, interrupting Hallsy’s rant. 

 

Hallsy gasped. “You buried him alive?” he asked. 

 

“No!” Claude argued. “He went to check on Nolan, he’s totally fine.”

 

At this point, Hayes was completely failing to hold back his laughter, sitting on the carpet with tears streaming down his face. As a consequence, the path to the front door was clear.

 

Meanwhile, Hallsy had somehow managed to acquire a never-used wooden spoon from the kitchen and was advancing on Claude dangerously, screaming threats. Seizing the opportunity, Wayne grabbed Claude’s hand and dragged him out the door and into a mad dash down the street.

  
  


*

  
  


_ ‘Why does Hallsy think you murdered Nico and dropped him into the river? _ ’ read the text from Nolan. Wayne thought briefly about explaining the whole thing, but Claude was sitting on his bed, looking a little out of breath, quietly pleased. And Wayne had a couple of years of not kissing him to catch up on.

 

_ ‘No idea,’ _ he texted back, then threw the phone into his bag. He only had a couple of hours before pre-game naps and he intended to use every minute of them.

  
  


 

**Author's Note:**

> Look for a bonus scene in the comment section. While you're down there, tell me what you thought?


End file.
